Surreal Evolution
by leahhlee
Summary: The spirit of a heartbroken lover brings Roy and his sexy opponent to a deserted mansion. Roy begins to figure out he will need to perform an extremely high act of love to escape...but his roommate isn't cooperative...(RoyxOc) LEMON TO COME
1. Spar!

Disclaimer: Nintendo owns all of the characters mentioned, except for Aurore. The game Timescope is fictional.

Chapter 1: Spar!

"Match 15: Fire Emblem's Roy!"

The redhead teen emerged from his team's dugout, hand curled over the crest of his sword. He took a final look back at his comrades, admiring Marth's smiling face, Ness' innocent smile, and Peach's cheers of encouragement. This was the semi-final match—win and go home with the trophy.

The crowd went berserk as he stepped into the battle arena. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs. This was where he belonged.

"Match 15, versus Aurore from Timescope!"

The din was deafening. Roy squinted. He had never heard of Timescope, or Aurore…

The aura of sparkles burst from the ground forty yards away from him. The first thing he saw was the head of a black staff, about five and a half feet off the ground. His vision shifted, and there was Aurore, in all her splendor.

She had long black hair that twined around the base of her brilliant staff. Her skirt was sable obsidian with belts looping around her arms and waist. She was a splash of black against an audience of light. And she was hot.

The buzzer sounded, beginning the battle. Roy waited for her to make the first move. She yelped, tapped her staff against the ground, and a shimmering pair of wings appeared as her staff shifted out of presence. She lifted herself into the air and threw her arms up.

The air around him seemed stuffed with darkness. He rolled out of the way as a hammer of black thunder crunched the ground where he once stood. She fluttered to a platform over his head, craning to see if he was engulfed or not.

He took his chance and leapt up, driving his blade through the platform with a fiery force. She cried out and swore. "Bitch!"

"That's bastard to you," he said, watching as she beat the flames from her skirt. She put her hands over her heart and yelped again. Her wings melted away, the snakes of shadow drooling up her arms. The melanoid forms shaped themselves into twin blades and she lunged.

Roy was faster. He grabbed her and threw her over the edge, feeling her blades drain away, shooting up to grab the ledge. She flipped over him, and fired a ball of black and his knees. The ball burst on contact, and curled up his arms, pinning them to his side.

She darted over to the teen, encased in her trap. "You're right. It was bastard."

His legs shot out from under him, flipping him over. She was kicked in the face as her shreds of darkness repaired to her side, giving her a long pole. She was disappointed. Not a single hit yet…

He was gone! Had he flipped over the edge?

"Surprise," he chortled, running through her with his sword. She poked at him with her pole, and oddly enough he tripped.

He sprang back up clumsily to parry with her. She spun away, undoing their blades, as her cloudy figures reformed a knife, which she thrust over her hip. She felt the air rush out of him, but she still wasn't quick enough.

He rolled off the dagger and continued to pummel her with his sword. Her onyx structures gave her wings, and she flew to safety. He once again came up from under her and she lie motionless on the ground.

_He's too fast… I'm not going to make it…_

She blacked out, and her cloudy shadows took control. They rose high above his head, and rained down black needles, regrouped, and smacked him in the face. He cried out and rocketed backwards as the balls retreated to their mistress. She awoke as they fanned her, and she pulled the droplets together, wound them tightly, and shot a beam of darkness at the boy as he stood again.

The usual light and pained scream sounded with the announcer. "GAME!"

The last thing she remembered was a huge shadow enveloping her, and then….

Nothing.

* * *

Roy's sword was digging into his side as he felt his consciousness came back to him. It felt strange… Marth had defeated him once, but his reinitializing took a few seconds. There wasn't supposed to be any numbness, either.

He was resting on a red velveteen carpet in the middle of a huge…ballroom?

It was dank, dark, and empty. Cobwebs were everywhere, the punch bowl was empty, and dust had settled on the buffet. A winding staircase spiraled to a hall of rooms on either side, and a huge set of double doors led to the kitchen. There appeared to be no way out, as the stained glass windows were a few feet thick.

He drew his sword, and walked around to the stairs. Suddenly, a white light burst forth from the top, and down tumbled his opponent. Her dark helpers were gone, and a trail of silvery blood was drizzled on her mouth. He kicked her away out of disgust; seeing that she was paralyzed just like he was, minutes ago.

"Huh?"

Her voice was thin, broken…

He regarded her as her muscles twitched, her body checking to ensure everything was stable. She was curvy, perfectly sculpted, like a marble statue done in warm flesh instead of cold marble. Her face was erotic, carved from pure beauty, shaped like something from his dreams. Her blue eyes opened and—

"You? The bastard?"

He shook his head. "Yes, the bastard."

"Why are you here?"

"I don't know. Don't use that tone of voice with me."

"I'll use whatever tone I want."

"Suit yourself." He began to climb the stairs as she dusted herself off. He heard her yelp, and them relished her expression as no balls of shadow came to her aid. "Great."

He explored the hallway. At the very end of it was a gigantic bedroom. He stepped inside cautiously, noticing the room didn't look as abandoned as the others. The bed was made, and two nightstands stood on either side of the king-size mattress, appliquéd with name cards. He walked over to one side, and froze.

His name was on the card.

The sight next to the card was bone chilling. There was a single Playboy Special Edition, with a raven-haired girl on the cover on the cover, dressed in black leather. His smirking face, complete with lusty eyes, was faded into the background.

The sound of feet broke his tension as Aurore rushed through the doorway. He thrust the magazine down. She looked scared. "The radio is playing."

"And?"

"Well-" She blushed, unable to summon the words for her fright. "It's weird…because we woke up in this house, and… the radio started…there isn't anyway out, so, like, um…"

"I know there isn't anyway out. You can't break the windows, you can't slice through the wood… we're stuck, okay?"

"Don't be such a hard-ass about it, alright? So what, I kicked your tail, we need to get out, okay? I have a team to report to."

"And I don't? This is my room. Find a duster and clean out a room _far away_ from me."

"I already tried. The other doors are locked."

"Break them down."

"I could loosen the framework."

"I'll give you a blanket and you can sleep in the ballroom."

She looked at her feet and sighed. He crossed his arms and said defiantly, "You're scared."

"So? At least I'm honest with myself."

"How do you know if I'm honest with myself or not? You barely even know me. Look, I'm going to go sift through the kitchen. You're welcome to come, as long as you shut up. I'm sick of you talking to hear yourself."

"I'm just trying to tell you how I feel! God!"

"Well, I'm not listening. You're just an opponent."

She followed him out the room. He puzzled her, how she would be in awe of her conqueror while he spited them. He, in himself, was a complete enigma. He was nicely built, a few inches taller than her, with bright red hair and chunky sword-

"Whatcha looking at?!"

"Nothing."

"That's what I thought."

He went down the stairs and they both gasped. The ballroom was a spread of food, roiling with steam, pleasant aromas, and water. "Alright!" Roy exclaimed, descending on the food. Aurore was horrified.

_Someone's planning this, I know it!_

She wandered away from the food and through the double doors of the kitchens. She placed a palm on the empty griddle. Stone cold… The lights didn't work and the rest of the kitchens were cast in a shadowy chasm. She returned, seeing that Roy had stuffed himself, and a quarter of the blanket of desserts was gone.

He prodded her with a chicken wing. "Have some. It's really good."

She frowned at him, but took an apple fritter and bit of a chunk. It was delicious. Delectable. She set it aside and took up a treacle tart and dribbled it with peppermint sauce. She proceeded to eat to her hearts on content, until Roy opened a bottle of wine.

He sniffed it. "Never had wine before."

She threw down her quail egg and wiped her hands off, taking the bottle from him. "Valleys Circle Cabernet Sauvignon."

She took a swig. Roy waited on her reaction. She nodded and took another, testing it, eyebrow dipped in judgment. "A bit flat, but nicely bottled."

He sipped some, and spit it out, ruining a plate of butter creams. "Gross."

She took it back and had a long drink. "Mmm, feels good."

She plugged the cork back in, seeing that this was he only bottle. As she set it aside, an angry presence pervaded the room. She reached out towards Roy, but recoiled from his venomous glare.

"I'm bushed. See you."

"Where am I sleeping?!"

Her looked at her, seeing how scared and pitiful she looked. He closed his eyes and sighed. "Fine. But you're sleeping on one side of the bed. And there's something you need to see."

He started for the stairs and she caught up with him. "I need to see? Like what?"

He wrenched open the door and picked up the magazine. She gasped, practically ripping it from his hands. "Oh my God!"

He looked over at hers, seeing that her name card was the only thing on the table. He took the magazine and said, "It's mine."

"**Yours?** You should **burn** it! That's filthy, rabid, disgusting… **I'll** burn it!"

He placed it on his nightstand. "I can't burn it. I don't know why. We don't have a fire place anyway."

She looked disturbed. He sighed and put it in a drawer. "I won't read it, okay? Can we get some sleep?"

He removed his cloak and armour and hopped into bed. She unbuckled her skirt and climbed in. He was propped up on his arm, looking at her with a sly smile. She frowned. "What?"

"Are you like the goddess of black? You should wear brighter colours. They'd bring out your eyes. Black is stale, anyhow."

She seemed ill at ease. "Um, I like black. I don't need you to tell me how to dress."

"Touché," he said, rolling over.

She the light clicked off by itself, and she shuddered, squirming to the middle. "This is so weird."

"What?"

She looked at him as though he hand slapped her. "What? What do you mean, **what**?! **_We have disappeared_**! Gone! In some strange house where food makes itself and…and…and porno everywhere! Is that normal to you?"

He put a hand on her bare shoulder. "Dude! Chill! I know it's weird, but we're exhausted. I'll admit it; you worked me hard in that battle. We need rest…to clear our heads. We'll look for a way out tomorrow."

She calmed herself down and closed her eyes. "Sorry. I just freaked out…and sleeping…with you is-"

"I am **not** sleeping with you. We, by circumstance, are in the same bed. No kinky stuff is going to happen."

* * *

He woke up with Aurore pressed against his boxers. A slithering sound announced that her tunic had slipped over the side of the bed, leaving her topless. She was pressed against him, arms curled under his arms. He smiled. She was even more angelic up close.

Her eyebrows were shaped and tailored to perfection, perched over porcelain eyelids. He brushed one and whispered, "Aurore." He shook her lightly. "Wake up."

Her eyes opened to slivers and she smiled, arms squeezing tighter around him. "It's so cold outside… and you're so warm."

He chuckled and pulled her closer. "I know," he said huskily. This was fun, playing games with the paranoid. "And you're so hot."

"Don't leave!"

Her hand curled around his side and onto the expanse of his bare chest, layered with muscle. Hot trails of pleasure tread in its wake. She sighed, eyes closing again. "You're so male…my man, my boy…Roy…"

Her eyes hot open. "Roy."

Gathering the sheets to cover her nudity, she sat up. Her black hair still held its diamond obsidian, and was still unnaturally straight. "I was… sleeping! And you-"

"Took advantage of you? Please. You took off your tunic."

"That's filthy…slimy, repulsing…"

He propped himself up again, hair drifting in her face. He put on a cocky smile, and Aurore shivered. That was **so** appealing. "Can't you be honest with yourself? You liked it. But of course, you can't. So we'll find to another room soon."

She scrambled into her tunic and buckled her skirt on as Roy reapplied his armour. She screwed a black tiara in her hair and shuddered. "Okay. You were…warm. But I was just cold!"

"'My man, my boy'?"

She crossed her arms. "Things happen when you're half asleep!"

"Damn straight. You think I'm hot."

"Bullshit."

He strode out the door and mumbled loud enough for her to hear, "Denial, stance one."

She beheld herself. He was so very male, and controlled. He had softened to her, she felt, but not nearly as much as he could. A hidden part of her wanted to go deeper, but she repressed these and walked out the door. "You think I'm sexy, too! C'mon, I know it!"

"Yeah, I do, matter of fact. People in black tend to be good in bed."

That wasn't the answer she expected. But it would do. "And you'd know? Are you a man-whore?"

"Nope! Virgin, proud of it. But I've seen videos."

"Freak."

"An honest, sexy freak."

She crossed her arms against and he smiled at her. She giggled. "Touché."


	2. Revelation

Chapter 2: Revelation

The floor was set with breakfast rolls, and Roy ate his fill while Aurore swept out one of the bathrooms. He sat up and stretched. A glimmer at the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he strode over to the open door to the right of the stairs. A shiny book lay in the doorway. The book was titled something Roy wasn't interested in, so he stepped into the room. As he did this, several torches ignited themselves, causing him to jump.

The book was gone. The room was empty, except for a solid pewter statue in the center of the room. He approached it with caution.

The carving was that of a teenage boy holding a girl in his arms. He was kneeling and crying furiously. She smiled at him, hand extended to comfort him. A small plaque below it read:

"_Surreal Evolution_

_To think I'd watch you go_

_An Unreal Resolution_

_Because I love you so"_

The lights went out, and he turned and bolted for the door. It wasn't out of fear, he found, it was out of discomfort for being there. Aurore rushed to the stairs. "I heard you running…are you alright?"

"Everything's okay."

"But are _you_ alright?"

It seemed like an odd question, coming from her. He smiled brightly at her and assured her he was fine. She returned the smile. "Good."

She came down the stairs, still disturbed about the self-setting table. She took a roll anyway, examined him, and said, "You sure you're alright?"

"Yeah."

"I'm going to sift through the rooms for something to get us out of here."

"All of them? It'll be midday by the time you finish."

"I take it you're not going to help me?" She smiled when he cast about for the right words. "Just playing. You can search the top floor."

She bit into a roll, and put it down, dusting off her hands. "You know, I feel really bad about calling you a bitch."

"Bastard."

"Yes." She giggled. "I guess I don't mean it. After being with you and all."

"You mean sleeping with me."

"I slept with you! No –ings. You are **so** frustrating."

"But I'm not a bastard."

"Will you shut up!"

Roy laughed and fell back across the carpet in a sigh. "I'll be honest with you, since I'm not very modest. You're hot. I'd kill to wake up with a hot girl all over me every morning, and since none of us want to look for a way out, I just might be." He dodged a breakfast roll. "And since I already know you think I'm sexy-"

"You really aren't very modest."

"A fool of me. But an honest fool I remain. Heh."

Aurore was blushing furiously as she stood up. "I wish you'd stop trying to get me in your pants and just-"

"Oh? Now it's going straight to the hips? Jesus, what am I hinting at with you, woman?"

"It was the magazine, Roy. You like porn. I don't even know how it got there, or how you got a hold of it, but damn! You sick freak! No, no, no, I don't wanna hear it. I'm finding another room to sleep in. Excuse me for apologizing, you bastard."

She spit out her roll and ran up the stairs. She turned briskly around the left corner, away from the room they'd slept in last night, and slammed the door shut. Roy didn't even break a stride in his eating. The red-haired warrior had more to worry about than some gothic fighter… the rumbling in his stomach, for instance. The food tasted just as good as it did in Altea.

Altea. Home. Back where he and Marth had trained for the latter half of the days in the palace. He remembered the honorary feast thrown for them when at last they'd been accepted on to the Super Smash Squad, and became Brothers with Link, Peach, Zelda, Ness…accepted into the social life of the Melee team. They were more like a family than a team.

He remembered the time Peach was rejected by Link in silent, and then remembered her making out with all of her might on his own knee. He had kissed every girl on the squad, including Samus and Nana, and he enjoyed being the spotlight of the women's interest. He found it surprising that he hadn't kissed Aurore already.

He laughed at himself. He was sitting here, trapped in this house, and all he could think about was the raven-haired enchantress upstairs. He sighed, got up, and began to climb the stairs, determined to reconcile with her.

She had chosen the second door from the right. He knocked three times.

"I'm not coming out, Playboy."

He rolled his eyes. "You know that the magazine isn't mine. We were in the middle of a fight; extra baggage would slow me down."

"You're fast enough, anyways," she growled. He heard her scold herself for accidentally complimenting him. "Then why won't you throw it away?"

He almost said, 'Because I haven't read it yet'. He realized that it would be most unwise, so he went with, "I don't know. It's not like I can just throw it away or burn it."

"You could loose it."

"It still wouldn't be gone. And it wouldn't make you come back if I 'lost it'."

There was a pause. "Why should you care?"

He caught himself. "I don't care!"

Again, silence. "I thought so."

He fell against the door and moaned. "Aurore, that's not what I meant. You know it-"

"Just go."

He stood there for a few moments, hoping she's change her mind. She was on pressed against the door as well, biting her knuckle in an attempt to stop the tears. She didn't even know why she was crying.

He trudged down the hallway back to his room, and flopped down on the bed in a sulk. That's when he noticed the magazine was open to about the second page, the pages lazily arched as if it had been picked up and thrown back down in haste. He wasn't alerted to any ulterior presence in the room, so he tentatively picked it up.

There was Aurore's face, stretched across the top corner of the page, face twisted in a look of distant ecstasy. Her corset dress was ruffled and nearly unlaced, dipping low to show her tanned breasts. He gulped as his finger curled around the bottom of the page; it was a fold out poster.

It was of himself, sprawled over her nether region, plunged deep inside. Due to the perspective and clever camera angles, the cursed image was hidden from view, but he read the expression on his face; it was one of pure delight, banishing innocence, one of…of ravishing. His hands were cupping two fistfuls of her dress, pulling her down on him, unwilling to set her free.

He almost threw it down, but a single white note card fluttered to the floor. He picked it up.

_Now you know._

What was that supposed to mean?

He quickly closed the magazine and shoved it into the drawer, the image on the page still flashing before his eyes. It was a tasteful sight, but a spectacle of a sight, nonetheless. Aurore would hate to see it. She would hate the general idea of anything dealing with them together.

But where was that someone getting the pictures from? He was certain they'd never posed for pictures like that before. And who? Who was sending him messages?

"This is unreal," he thought, and just as the words wafted across his brain, he remembered the statue in the library.

He rushed to the banister, and saw that a faint glow from the library was washing across the carpet. Whatever was in this house, it was calling him.

Cautiously, he made his way to the double doors behind the staircase, and pushed them open. The library was just the same as it had been an hour ago, except the carved sculpture was different. It was still an ashy pewter, but the girl was motionless now, and the boy holding her was screaming in anger. It was so lifelike; Roy could almost feel his frustration, almost hear his howl. Was she dead? Was he dying too?

That's when he saw the slot carved into the bottom of the sculpture. Instinctively, he shoved the note card through the slot.

The inscription hissed, and vanished as new words rose from the sleek surface of the tablet:

So I'll bind you here to me And we'll find two to make a pact Ne'er to let them leave Until they complete our act 

And Roy drew away from the statue in fear as the realization claimed him. He was never going to leave until whatever evil lived here claimed his life.


	3. Vigil

Chapter 3: Vigil

Surreal Evolution

Author's Note: WOW, this took forever to update. Sorry, guys, really. We're getting into the good stuff now, keep on reviewing, tell me what you want to see and I might be able to fit it in for you! Much love leahhlee

Roy couldn't sleep at all. His mind was dwelling on his encounter in the library, and every time his eyes flicked over to the bed table, he felt gooey inside. For the first time in his life, he felt lonely and strangely uncomfortable.

In the wee hours of the morning, he finally hoisted his sleep deprived self up from bed and rubbed his temples. Why couldn't he get some rest? He could try one of those druidic breathing patterns the mages at court practiced… But what if he dreamt about the library or the magazine? Then he wouldn't be able to function the next day…

He had no choice. Without sleep, he was vulnerable and dim-witted. Warriors couldn't be caught off guard. He laid his head back on the pillow, and sucked in a rhythmic breath. A well-measured pattern began as he counted each exhale and inhale, coaxing himself into a thin layer of sleep, gradually progressing into a heavy slumber with each lungful of air.

Across the hall, Aurore awoke to the cold. There was neither sunlight nor the freezing blanket of night seeping in through the windows, but the mansion's temperature fluxuated like a normal day. Whatever the reason, she couldn't sleep in the cold. The frost wasn't yet biting, but she could feel her fingers hum as the blood retreated to her heart.

Her mind turned to Roy. He was so complicated! One minute he was compassionate and humble, the next, guarded and proud. He must be acting, then. Otherwise he would be bipolar.

Or maybe he did care, at least a little bit. He had to, otherwise he would have gone away by now. Not that he had anywhere to go. He hadn't invited her back into the room yet…

Why was she so concerned with figuring him out anyways? At the thought, she furrowed her eyebrows and pulled her hand into a fist. Normally, the darklings would have come and caressed the muscles in her hand until she relaxed and wasn't angry, but the soothing frictions of darkness and flesh was absent. She hadn't felt it in days… not since the last battle.

That was the battle against Roy. There hadn't been a decent opponent in her life for years ever since she'd trained with the Capcom team. All of the other members had personal grudges against the Melee team, but she had no one. She'd fought Peach and the Ice Climbers with ease, and, since she'd been paired with less-than-salutatory opponents, didn't receive much press coverage. Maybe with Roy, she'd get the spotlight for a while. Then she could move on to tougher enemies.

But Roy _was_ tough. He had practically owned the stage up until her last opportunity. Aurore sighed to herself indignantly. She had capitalized on his one moment of weakness. She was better.

Was he really an enemy? After sleeping in the same bed with him, could she really curse him like that? Besides, he was very cute and had a sense of humor…

It didn't matter now. She was trapped in this mansion with him until she could get back to the arena. A fleeting image of the two of them together flashed through her mind, and she found herself smiling as the picture dissolved into reality. She was dreaming of impossible things. He was headstrong, and she was a watcher. He preferred looks over love, and she preferred quiet over qualm.

Roy was immediately awake. He could not sleep, not for the life of him. Images of the boy and the statue swam before his sleeping eyes, jolting him to life out of shock and fear. There was something about this house that he didn't like, not in the least bit.

Aurore heard the gasp and ragged breathing from her room where she lay in a sprawled heap. She drew herself together and stumbled into the hallway, eyes instantly adjusted to the gloom, and began to trudge toward his room.

Roy heard her in the hallway, and quickly shimmied into his under armor. It was a thin rail that protected his skin from the chaffing of the carved metal; often when his shoulders were pivoting to maneuver the sword, the bare skin would catch the lip of the chest plate and would bleed. The under armor could cushion bludgeoning blows, but piercing or slashing damage would rent into to pieces.

He was at the door before she reached it. "Can't sleep?"

"No," she said, rubbing her eyes. The marble sheen on her irises reflected in the pale light of the corridor, almost catlike in complexion. "This house scares me. The darkness isn't native here."

"Whatever. This place is just plain messed up. Abused in a former life or something, I don't know."

She smiled as she said, "How can you joke about this? It's really creepy."

"Hey, gotta keep the mood light. Especially with the Princess of Darkness lounging around and all." He smiled back.

They hung together in the dark for a few minutes until Roy came out into the hallway with the comforter off his bed. He spread it out at the top of the stairs. "Shall we keep a vigil until 'morning'?"

He sat down and offered her his hand. She took it, gliding down beside him. "I'd like that."

"Don't be all sappy. It's not a date, you know."

"I know, I was just saying thanks without saying thanks. Gosh."

"Well, you're welcome." He rolled his eyes.

It was nice just to sit there in the dark with him, cherishing him outside of his natural habitat. Without his armor, he still looked strong and quick. He was completely tan, even in places his armor covered. He was staring at her too, and, since both were guilty, the opted to keep quiet and keep looking.

She was less muscled than he was. Her physique was more dancer-esque than his, relying more on grace and precise movements in battle rather than brute power. She had the poise that floated about her like a brittle wind but also the aura that alluded to more destructive forces beneath. She reminded him of Zelda, with Peach's beauty and Samus' composure. Weaving in between was something else that he could isolate for scrutiny.

"So…"

She giggled. "Yeah. Um, hey, about the thing a few hours ago—"

"Don't apologize, it's just awkward." Roy leaned back on his elbows. "Like thank-you notes. Mother always made me write them. It's basically like, 'hey, thanks for my stuff, it's real cool.' What are you going to say? 'It was terrible, I returned it and bought something else'?"

She laughed. "You must be one of those people who rock the awkward moments. No one's ever given me a present, so luckily, no thank you notes." She gave him a flamboyant, fake thumbs up, a smile rising to his lips. A frown quickly upset it.

"You've never gotten a present? You've never had a birthday party or anything?"

"No," she sighed. "I was raised in an okiya. I was supposed to become a dancer, but apparently, it wasn't meant to be." She made a similar gesture to those she made on the battlefield. "I was a fighter."

"What's an okiya?"

"It's a place where dancers live back in my home world, Char. They train with other dancers so they can perform at seasonal dances and make money for the okiya. They may look all pretty and well-kept, but we're not allowed company, communication, or presents."

Roy was drawn aback. "Why not? Don't you need all that sentimental stuff so you can dance better? You know, like love and happiness, etcetera…"

"Nah, this kind of dance is supposed to be a representation of pure character, unshaped by others. The purer the dancer, the more people will want to see her." She chuckled at the disturbed look on Roy's face. "Yeah, I know, it's messed up. That's why people like me don't last long in places like that."

"I'd go crazy. Did you say the dancers were girls?"

"Mostly."

"Then I'd probably be alright."

She rolled on her side, facing him. "What is so entrancing about girls to you? Are you a womanizer?"

"No way!" He looked offended, but the smile curling at his lips suggested he was teasing playfully. In a way, she was happy to be taunted, but disappointed that he might be another selfless man. "How could I be a womanizer? And, though I'm not proud of it, I'll say it. I'm a virgin. Besides…"

The look in his eyes was husky and bold. "I heard it feels good."

Her hopes hit the floor with a sigh. "You're a pig," she said, and rolled away from him.

He laughed his head off. "Gotcha!" His laugh was so carefree and young. She still didn't turn back. He reached over and pulled her to her back, inching towards her with his head propped up on his fist. "Come one, I know you're laughing. Do it… do it!"

She couldn't help it. She giggled, looked at his smiling face, and broke into laughter. It felt good to purge the inner darkness and let the brightness in, like letting his eyes swallow her whole…he was close, so close, his mouth just six inches away, and if she gently pulled him down, he'd kiss her. She knew it.

He could sense the tension too. All he had to do was kiss her. Just drop down and talk to her wordlessly. It would be the same as with any other girl, any other party, another date…

No. It wouldn't be the same. But how could it not be?

"Um, Roy? You're kind of over my head and it's getting awkward again."

"Oh, yeah, um, sorry about that, just making sure you got that it was a joke…"

She turned towards him again as he settled down, flushed and embarrassed, on his back. "So why have you not had sex yet? Isn't that like, a coming of age thing for you boys?"

"Eh, I guess it is, if you want it to be like that. Marth hasn't had sex either, but he's picky and private. He used to say that it is what you make it, and I'm trying not to make a whole ceremony out of it."

"So you don't really want it to symbolize your induction into manhood, yet you don't want it to be a big deal?"

"Don't get me wrong. While I don't attach the mythical, cosmos-shaking importance to the first time that, say, mystics in the Dark Ages, or natives living under an active volcano might, I _still_ don't think of it as a throwaway nuisance."

Aurore poked him playfully in the stomach. "Awww, he wants meaningful sex. How cute!"

He batted her hand away. "What?" he said cynically.

"If you want your deflowering to _mean _something, you might want to, er, donate your virginity to a good cause," she said. "The only people in this world who will appreciate it are taken or unattractive. Unfortunately, society has conditioned all the hot people into thinking sex is a communal ritual."

"So you must be a fan of ritualistic sex then. What was your first time like?"

She was appalled. His backhanded compliments were harder to come back to. "Beg pardon, but I've never has sex either. I've kissed one guy, and it was a cheap shot. I would have slapped him if he wasn't so cute. And I object to you calling me a hot slut." It sounded funny when she said it, so he greeted her with a peal of laughter.

"Don't look so pleased," she said sourly. "You're capable of engendering the same feeling—barely escaping a richly deserved smack through cuteness."

"But you admit you think I'm cute."

She swatted him on the shoulder sharply. "You just stepped over the line."

"It was worth it." He poked her back, singing in an obnoxious, high voice, "She liiikes me, she liiikes me, she reeealy, reeealy liiikes me."

"You're a little booger," she said, reaching out to tickle him. A small battle of squirming hands ensued until at last the collapsed back down on their backs, exhausted and content. Roy was being genuinely nice to her. Aurore was being genuinely open to him. She wasn't pitying him like she was taught in the okiya, and he wasn't thinking about getting in her pants.

"Hey."

She saw his hand laying palm up between them. She pressed her palm against it, fingers wrapping around the outside. He squeezed it and laughed. "No, silly."

She braced herself, preparing for him to tell her off and shake her hand away. But he peeled her hand off briefly, only to reposition it so their fingers were laced together. "Like this."

She suddenly thanked her creator for placing spaces between her fingers. A small part of her was magically filled as his hand meshed with hers, fitting together like long-lost puzzle pieces. The anatomy almost seemed carved just for him.

A soft musical sound began to sound above them. It was heavy but gentle, soothing almost. It was rain. The normality of it all washed over them both: it was raining. There was a world outside, a world that rained just like the worlds they had come from. It was good to feel such a basic aspect of home, however standard, and it began to rain harder, the raindrops increasing from a slight downpour to a serene crescendo.

"It's rain," she said. "I never realized how much I missed it until I thought it was gone."

"Yeah."

They lay there for a moment or two before Roy finally said, "This is nice."

She turned her head to ask him what he meant but he immediately blurted out, "And that's all I'm going to say."

Sleep fell softly. The rain continued.


End file.
